Going straight to his sister’s house, Long Moose set the fat buck at his sister’s feet without a word. Smiling, he put one hand on her shoulder as she stared at him in surprise. Many of the villagers crowded around asking questions, but Long Moose said nothing and looked over their heads for Nantesi. Then he saw the old man sitting contentedly before his home, looking kindly in his direction. Walking over to where the old brave sat, Long Moose asked if he could talk with him. Nantesi rose slowly, and greeting Long Moose warmly, invited the young man into his home. When both were seated, Nantesi, as before, waited for Long Moose to speak.
“Nantesi, my friend, for a long time I have been away from my tribe. As you said would happen, my mind is no longer troubled. Up in the hills I made a campsite for myself. I lived on nuts and berries and plants and the cool water of the mountain streams. Each night I wrapped myself in my blanket and slept a troubled sleep.
“But three nights ago, when I had finished my evening prayer, I rolled myself in my blanket and rested my head upon a soft bed of pine needles. Sleep came suddenly, and for the first time in three weeks I slept peacefully until the moon had risen high in the sky. I awoke with a start knowing I had the answer that you had said I would find in the forest.
“Suddenly, I knew that I had watched the very creatures that I love struggle with each other for life here in the forests and in the fields and the streams. I had never thought that this was wrong. Right at this very moment, the struggle for life is going on in many parts of the forest. Before the sun brings the dawn of a new day, many of our forest creatures will have died because others must live. The strongest or the wisest live. Now I knew what I had hidden from myself that if some wild creatures did not die to provide food for others, many of the same animals that I love so much would die. I knew that I should not kill just for the sake of killing. The animals themselves kill only when they are hungry or their lives are in danger. I, too, could follow their example and be a good brave.
“The truth had come to me from life itself. I sat up and gazed into the fire trying to decide whether I had been dreaming. Suddenly my heart was happy once again. I went back to sleep and in the morning started my trip back to the village. Halfway here I came upon a buck. My aim was good. I have brought fresh meat for my sister to cook and store away, and a hide for her to make into a new dress. I shall go out again tomorrow and bring back my share for the tribe.
“I have found the answer I had been searching for. Now I can return to my tribe with pride. That is my story, Nantesi, and I wanted to tell you first about it. It is good to be back. It is good to be a Powhatan.”
Nantesi smiled across at his young friend. “It is good to have you back. Welcome, brave!”
HOW A FISHING TRIP TAUGHT LOYALTY TO A BOY
It was a bright morning in the village of the Iroquois. Maseca, the little Indian brave, awoke to the sound of the birds of the woodland. Today Maseca and Chincho were going fishing and that was always a great adventure, for they never knew exactly what would happen as they strode through the forest or out along the wild streams.
Maseca gathered up his fishing gear and he carefully went over it all to see that it was in good shape. Then he sat down to eat some food his mother had prepared for him. But he was impatient to get under way. So he arose and, stuffing some dry deer meat into his pouch, started off in search of Chincho.